


endangered by reason

by spektri



Category: Marvel (Comics), X-Force (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spektri/pseuds/spektri
Summary: Things they said, feelings they felt, lives they livedA collection of “Things you said” prompts as fuel for a longer, semi-cohesive story





	1. RICTOR: things you said at 1 am

Rictor sets off in the dark corridors bare-footed, too lazy to change from his lazy nightwear to anything more appropriate. He’s not really been sleeping yet despite the looming 6 a.m. training; his internal clock is too stubborn to let him. That, in turn, makes waking up early hell… but there’s probably no force, X or othewise, on this earth to make Cable’s morning drills any type of enjoyable.

He’s only up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but a blinking light coming from under a door stops him. It’s not difficult to guess who it is; this room, one of the many viewing rooms of Murderworld, is the one that got designated as Shatterstar’s TV room. It’s hardly ever visited by anyone else, except those rare moments others in the team make their half-assed attempts at socializing with Star, usually ending in mutual frustration; and Rictor, who seems to be the only one to have gotten used to the company of the socially oblivious maniac.

He knocks on the door lightly before opening it—although Star probably knew he was behind it already, with all of his ‘heightened senses’. He enters the room to see Star on the couch, TV switching channels by itself, and Star’s posture a little rigid, though he’s not turning around on Rictor’s behalf anymore, which must be progress.

“Hey,” Rictor says, and surprises himself with the softness on his tone. Maybe he _is_ tired, though he doesn’t feel it. Star doesn’t answer, because the greeting business has struck him as pointless; ‘If I already know you’re there, and you know I’m here,’ he said, in the brusque way he does when humanity frustrates him, ‘what point is there to announce your presence?’ Rictor’s—admittedly fumbling—attempts at trying to explain general etiquette were met with contempt and disdain.

Rictor stands there, almost in the doorway, not really sure why he came in, and switching between staring at the back of Star’s head and the TV. He notices the intervals between changing channels are longer, like Star is actually trying to focus on some of it. Maybe _something_ Ric’s said has stuck with him after all.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, dude? It’s late,” he says eventually, when it becomes too awkward just standing there doing nothing for no real reason, at least to Ric; Shatterstar doesn’t appear to notice anything being amiss.

“No,” Star says, in that straightforward, nonnegotiable way of his.

“Okay then.”

Rictor should leave, go get that glass of water he came for, and go back to his room. Something is keeping him there, though, but even if he knew what it was he won’t admit it, even—or especially—to himself. So he hovers.

The silence stretches, doing the thing it’s been doing lately a lot when Star’s concerned, where it seems to stop working like it’s supposed to, where it twists so minutes feels like hours and hours like seconds. Except for Star it all seems to go as it should. Unblinking, unwavering, he acts as normal as a guy with his circumstances can. And Rictor is thrown in a hurricane of time and space.

If it only were an earthquake. That’s a natural disaster he could work with.

When Shatterstar speaks it doesn’t feel like breaking a silence, more like expanding it.

“Are you…” Star hesitates; whether it’s to find words or consider them, it’s hard to say. But at least he is looking at Rictor now, brows furrowed in confusion, or concern, or concentration. “…troubled?”

Rictor lets out a breathy laugh that doesn’t feel, or sound, like his own; and with the way Star’s frown deepens, he doesn’t understand that reaction any more than Rictor does. Sometimes, Rictor thinks, it feels like he’s the alien. “No, just.” Pause. Pause. Pause. “Don’t feel like sleeping?”

No wonder Star’s social skills are what they are when he’s only got Rictor to show him around. It’s not that he’s not antisocial, and usually he’s talking even when there’s nothing to say, but lately his brain’s been short-circuiting, especially late at night, especially around Shatterstar.

Well, at least Star seems to take Rictor’s answer for what the words make it. “Do you feel like joining me?” he asks, not unkindly, not passively, maybe like he would actually like the company. It’s been happening occasionally as of late. Shatterstar has even spontaneously reached out to Rictor, been friendly, doing friend-things. Made Rictor less lonely, when the people who were his friends before are too busy wrapped in each other, or being lost.

“Yeah, okay,” Ric says, and climbs over the backrest on the sofa, gracelessly plopping—it’s the only applicable word—on what’s become ‘his side’.

Ric fixes his gaze on the TV, doesn’t turn when he sees from his peripheral vision Shatterstar looking at him, or when he doesn’t anymore. Shatterstar chooses a channel to stay on, from either kindness to Rictor or to prevent him from complaining. It’s late reruns of a show that Rictor has never seen before and can’t really focus on, where people are going on dates, maybe—there’s a lot of talking, little action, not very Shatterstar at all.

The show breaks for commercials when Shatterstar turns towards Ric, with his whole body now, demanding attention in a way Rictor can’t ignore. He meets Shatterstar’s eyes, feeling oddly fearful—he doesn’t know why.

“You are unwell,” he says.

“Yeah?” Rictor asks.

Shatterstar stares. Confused, like usual, but also almost defiant, like when he insists on sparring with Rictor on account of giving him skills ‘other than his powers’ to rely on.

“You’re acting different from usual,” Star explains, or observes. It’s probably something Rictor should feel proud of him for, that he’s gotten close enough to someone to manage to differentiate between normal and abnormal behaviour, but. Rictor doesn’t _want_ him to notice, not _this_ , whatever this is.

Looking at Star makes his eyes burn, so he turns back to the TV where people are running and shouting and laughing.

“I’m totally normal,” Rictor lies.

“You’re quiet,” Shatterstar says, “and still, and you keep…” He gestures vaguely, very person-like, “…zoning away.”

“Zoning off,” Rictor automatically corrects. “I guess I’m tired.”

“Then you should sleep.” Star’s so matter-of-fact it’s almost funny. “You need to take care of yourself.”

Rictor shrugs and resettles on the couch, knees drawn up and leaning his elbow on the armrest, and temple on his knuckles, and he stares at the nonsense on TV without registering much. Not for the first time in a short amount of time he feels things have become complicated—maybe all of a sudden, maybe little at a time, maybe they’ve always been it but only now it’s become obvious; whatever—but he feels like running away.

“Rictor,” Shatterstar says in a way that seems almost emotional, which, yeah, is worrisome. “I need you to take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you.”

 _Want_ is a new word in Shatterstar’s vocabulary, but it’s been used a lot recently. It’s like a switch has been flipped.

Laughing it off feels like swallowing blood, but he does so anyway, no matter how phoney it comes out. “You don’t have to worry about me, man. I’m totally normal.”

“Okay,” Shatterstar says.

They sit like that for some more time but the static in Rictor’s head gets too loud and the couch uncomfortable and the show too inane, so he gets up and says something along the lines of ‘I guess I’m gonna try to sleep’.

“If you want to talk,” Shatterstar says, when Rictor is at the door again and already thinking he’s safe, “I am here, for you.” The words sound rehearsed but Rictor knows that means it’s genuine, it’s something Star has put thought into, and Ric’s heartbeat gets frantic and his palms sweaty and he doesn’t say ‘bye’ when he runs out of the door.

 


	2. SHATTERSTAR: things you said over the phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's really weird writing about comics that came out in the 90s because canonically it should be like, 6 years ago?? so i struggled a bit trying to figure out what kinda technology to use, until i went 'fuck it' and just went with the modern shit.
> 
> so if you for some reason resent x-force era boys using cellphones, this probably isn't for you

After talking with Tabitha, Shatterstar has come to the conclusion that in addition to missing Julio, which has been obvious even in the newness of the sensation, he also resents him.

Resentment isn’t a new feeling, though he has not had a name for it, before. Before coming to Earth he _resented_ Mojo, and his prisoners, and his circumstances. After coming to Earth he _resented_ his teammates, for being so incredibly shallow, single-minded and … unwieldy. And then he began resenting his body for betraying him, and humanity for tampering with his mind, because wasn’t it easier to just _be_ what you were _made to be_ instead of having to deal with all of _this?_

He had thought that with Julio he had finally found something solid, and helpful, and lasting; he finally understood the usefulness, if not quite the purpose, of a _friendship;_ he didn’t feel so alone anymore, among all these people who were supposed to be his _peers_ but never made sense or acted reasonable. While there had been downsides—like the unreasonable worry he found himself being distracted by on a battlefield—they didn’t seem as bad in comparison to the positives… and then, then Julio took it all away and _left,_ on the grounds of something incomprehensible, trivial, pointless, and didn’t even explain.

Maybe he is a little _angry,_ too. He writes it down, on a small nondescript notebook Siryn—Theresa—had got him. ‘You can write things that confuse or interest you,’ she said when she handed the present over, ‘and you and me, or you and Tabs, or you and Ric, can talk them through sometime.’ The notebook is almost empty: the first page has the word ‘Julio’ on it, though the ‘o’ turned into a long scribble and then he coloured half the page black in frustration; on the second page he decided to be cleaner, and the first word is ‘resentment’, and then ‘Limelight - Stecky - ????’, and now, the third item on the list, ‘anger’.

As if on cue—in a way that makes Shatterstar momentarily suspicious about if this all is orchestrated, somehow—his phone, given to him by Cable, rings; the tone is something Julio picked for him, and the caller id says _The Hottest Guy On The Team_ which is what Julio chose as his own contact name.

Fueled by some kind of unnamed desperation Shatterstar answers the call almost instantly.

“Julio,” he says into the phone.

“Hey,” says his friend, sounding a little breathless and maybe amused. Even just hearing his voice has Shatterstar’s emotions in turmoil—there’s too much to make sense of them, but he keeps his notebook ready, just in case.

There’s a silence, and it isn’t comfortable. Shatterstar is happy Julio called, he thinks, because he misses him, but at the same time he is confused, and angry, and thinks Julio should be speaking because he is the one calling.

“How are you,” Shatterstar says to fill the silence and because it’s what he is supposed to say.

Julio laughs again. Shatterstar isn’t sure why, but he’s used to it enough not to mind too much. “I wanted to hear your voice,” he says, and then, almost panicked, “I mean—I,” another laugh, “wanted to hear you’re… okay.”

Shatterstar wonders which of the statements are true, or maybe if either, or both, are—Julio is prone to lying, Shatterstar knows that much, and he _hates_ it, and he doesn’t understand it, because Julio has said time and time again they are _friends_ and friends aren’t supposed to lie to each other, according to literally every single TV show and movie aimed at teenagers, as well as testimonials from both Theresa and Tabitha.

“I am… fine,” Shatterstar then says, because apparently that is one of those _acceptable_ lies and, besides, if Julio’s allowed to lie then in the name of fairness, shouldn’t he be, too? And Julio doesn’t need to know he has been injured and distraught after he left. He couldn’t do anything about it and, anyway, at least some of it would have been avoided completely if Julio _hadn’t_ left him, so maybe he doesn’t _deserve_ to know.

Shatterstar writes another word on his list: _pettiness_.

“Good, good.” Julio’s voice is strained and unnatural, and Shatterstar gets the odd impulse to touch him. But he isn’t there, and they were never very… touchy. Shatterstar has never been, apart from hand-to-hand combat and the occasional strangulation. “So… the team’s been good? To you, I mean?”

“Yes,” Shatterstar says, in lieu of ‘They’re not _you’._ “I have spent time with Tabitha and Theresa, on occasion.”

“That’s nice, they’re… great.”

Shatterstar has not really talked to people over the phone much, not actual conversations at least, so he doesn’t have much of a point of reference to compare this one to. Based on what he’s heard from other people, and seen on television, this is definitely not the how phone calls should usually go.

Then a thought hits him like Juggernaut: what if Julio is in peril? If he is held hostage and can’t tell? What if he is speaking in some sort of code? Most of the time Shatterstar can’t decipher what people are trying to say when they’re speaking as themselves, let alone when using some code that hasn’t been previously agreed on.

“Julio, is there something wrong?”

Shatterstar hears a deep inhale on the other end.

“I just… I’m sorry, man, sorry that I left you like that.”

“It’s fine. Like you said, it’s your decision.”

“Yeah, but. I… look, there’s just, a lot rattling around in my brain I don’t want others to see, not before I’ve—you know, before I’ve made sense of it for _myself._ Do you… do you know what I mean?”

Shatterstar doesn’t, but he is relieved that it seems Julio has not been captured. “Yes,” he says.

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Yes,” Shatterstar admits.

Julio laughs softly, this time unforced. Shatterstar finds himself thinking that it would be nice to hear more often. “Well, thanks, man.”

“Everything I think and feel is new to me,” Shatterstar says. “I need to tell someone else so _they_ can tell _me_ what it is. It is only through others’ experiences that I can make sense of my _own._ You have helped me with this, and now I’m not allowed to help you with what you’re going through. That’s what I understand.”

Julio stays quiet a long time, so quiet that for a moment Shatterstar thinks the call might have ended. Then he hears a careful exhale on Julio’s end, and decides to wait it out; talking is, sometimes, difficult to him—‘When it’s about, you know, _real stuff,’_ he said—and Shatterstar must respect that.

“You gotta know,” Julio says, words drawn out and careful, “that it’s not about trust, right? Or—you know, that I don’t appreciate everything you’re… that you are, to me. It’s just there are some things I need to think through, and it’s none of Cable’s business, and I don’t like people in my head anyway, but it’s—I think, Star, that it’s better that right now we can have a bit of distance and you can see if other people can be to you what I’ve been, and…”

A sense of panic swells in Shatterstar. “They can’t,” he says. “Only you understand. Only you have ever _tried.”_

Julio’s breathing has turned shaky, the high notes turning into noise in the phone’s microphone. “You have to give them a chance, dude. You just said you’ve been hanging out with Tabs and Terry now I’m not there, and it’s gotta be good for you, not just…” Julio’s voice chokes. He sounds almost terrified, and Shatterstar can’t understand why.

“They are nice, but I need _you,_ Julio,” Shatterstar says.

A long silence follows again, and Shatterstar cannot even begin to imagine what goes through Julio’s mind during it. He has always been a mystery; every time Shatterstar thinks something, Julio turns around and claims another thing, and he might never figure out what is true and what isn’t. It’s frustrating, but Shatterstar always thought it was worth it, that Julio was worth it.

“I really care about you, Star,” Julio then finally says, in a way that sounds resolute. “I’ll be there, I _promise_ I’ll be there if you really, _really_ need me. But for now, you can do it, okay? You’ll be fine without me to hold you back.”

Shatterstar never thought Julio was someone to care so much about battle strategy; the fact that he would’ve noticed Shatterstar getting distracted if Julio were in danger comes to him as a surprise. But he has never really thought Julio held him _back;_ if anything, he gave him a reason to fight more fiercely. And Julio was a fine enough fighter, if not possessing of much finesse. His power certainly is something to be in awe of, especially if fine toned to perfection.

“Okay,” Shatterstar says.

“Okay?” Julio repeats, voice high in surprise.

“This is important to you,” Shatterstar says. “I will not hold you back, either.”

“Fuck,” Julio softly breathes. “You’re so…” his voice fades to Spanish murmurs so low Shatterstar can’t make anything out of them, but he supposes if Julio wanted for him to hear he would have articulated better. “If you want to just talk, you know, about anything,” he says instead, “I’m a phone call away, yeah? Or you can text me. If you want.”

“Yes,” Shatterstar says, unsure if he does.

After another silence falls between them, Julio bids an awkward farewell and the line goes quiet. Shatterstar swallows, but it feels like something is lodged in his throat, and it won’t go down. His hands aren’t as steady as they should, either, when he picks up the notebook again and scribbles, unsure, _betrayal_ . It feels wrong: he blacks it out, and writes _disappointment_ next to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unsure if i'm happy with this chap but it is what it is i guess


End file.
